His eyes narrowed, but he nodded once, just a curt dip of his head. Not pleased, he’d still do what I said. He placed his hand on the glass, stretching his palm and fingers flat. I mirrored the move, imagining I could feel the ripple of his heat reach through the layers of cool glass.
The baying of hounds rolled across the darkening landscape, seeping through the window. Patrols had stepped up. I looked over my shoulder at the camera, then back at Pietr. “Go.”
The noise of dogs grew louder and he glanced to his left before mouthing three final words and racing into the deepening dark.
I love you.
CHAPTER THREE
Alexi
I groaned, rolling over in my bed and covering my head with my pillow. It did no good. The pounding on my door only increased in volume.
“Alexi!” Pietr roared.
The clock on the nightstand read 6:15. Why did morning feel the insistent need to arrive so early every day?
“Alexi!”
“I don’t know why you bother.” Max. “He doesn’t want to drive. And I don’t want to go.” His voice became a low rumble. “There’re much more interesting things I could study here.”
Amy giggled. “Some of us need to learn more than biology and chemistry,” she scolded. Playfully.
I suddenly doubted it was last night’s vodka souring my stomach this morning. What day was it, anyhow? I rolled onto my back and thought about it.
“Come on,” Amy said. “I’ll make everyone some breakfast.”
Reluctant footsteps faded down the hall.
I groaned again, remembering. I’d been betting on American football last night. Tonight I’d know if I’d won. That made today—Monday?
Again.
It seemed every week was determined to have a Monday in it. This, I feared, would be a six-cup Monday. I breathed deeply. Coffee was already on. Amy certainly had redeeming qualities.
I threw the pillow against the wall and sat, drumming my feet on the floor. The drumming echoed in my skull. I stopped, scratching my chest and rubbing my head, yawning the whole while.
Pulling open the nightstand’s drawer, I withdrew Nadezhda’s photograph. “Dobray den, beautiful,” I said, skimming my thumb across the flawless surface of her face. As I rose in Junction, she continued a day started hours earlier in Moscow—time and distance only being two things standing between us.
Gently returning her photo to the drawer, I tried not to think about the other thing that kept us apart, but it scurried into view of my mind’s eye, anyhow.
The oboroten.
Moyeh semyah. My family.
“Garr.” I scrubbed my fists against my forehead. Nadezhda probably wanted me dead. One did not break a promise to the daughter of such a powerful man—even if it was a promise that went against his dictates. He doted on her and would gladly have me killed if she asked. I should wipe her from my mind, get her out of my head.
And yet the drawer could not close tightly enough to lock her image away from my heart.
Growling, I grabbed some clothing and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower and an opportunity to clear my head.
Minutes later I was downstairs in the dining room, poking at the food on my plate and working through my second cup of coffee, left black as my mood.
“My cooking’s fine,” Amy said, looking at me. “Don’t you start acting like Pietr, just pushing food around the plate.”
Across the table Pietr collected dishes for the kitchen. Amy was right. It was as we sometimes said: He had eaten so little it was like underfeeding a worm.
“Your cooking is fine. My stomach is simply unsettled.”
“You’re too young to be developing digestive issues,” Amy complained. “What are you, Alexi? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”
I held up two fingers. It seemed so young numerically, and I had no right to complain being surrounded by the internally aging oboroten.
“Let’s go, old man,” Pietr called from the foyer.
“Go where?” I retorted, turning my two raised fingers to him in a distinctly rude gesture.
Amy missed it.
Max smacked my hand down and laughed.
“Drive us. To school,” Pietr demanded.
“Ask our brother, Max.”
The tension in the room became palpable. Max’s playful mood shifted hearing me use the term brother to relate to them. If we pretended to simply be roommates we were usually okay.
“His brother Max,” he corrected, his voice low, “knows he hates my driving.” Max shook out coats, holding them for both Amy and Cat.
“Pietr hates mine, too.” I flooded my mouth with coffee. The taste coating my tongue remained a foul reminder I was out of bed and didn’t want to be. I fought to swallow. “The fact you haven’t pursued getting a permit and preparing for your license is hardly my fault.”
Pietr opened his mouth to protest.
I stuck a hand up. “Nyet, you are correct,” I admitted, thinking back to the obstacles I had placed in front of my sometimes erratic little brother, a little brother who had gotten himself nearly killed testing his dramatic healing abilities again and again.
And paying more attention to girls than driving even his ATV.
Pietr’s brows lowered to shadow his eyes.
“It is my fault.” I barely kept the pride from my voice. Keeping Pietr from controlling an even bigger vehicle than the ATV that nearly tore his head off during a recent jump didn’t seem like a bad idea most days.
Just inconvenient most mornings.
He’d never drive illegally—Jessie would not look at him the same way since her mother had died in an accident with a car whose driver wasn’t legal. The fact Jessie had done so much to remake and forgive the girl—twisted, but somehow admirable.
“Take the bus. It seems capable of taking you to your destination. And the driver—relatively competent, da?”
“Come on, Pietr. The bus isn’t so bad,” Amy tried.
Pietr’s eyes darkened.
“It’s a status thing, isn’t it?” Amy jabbed him in the ribs. “You don’t want to be seen as a bus rider.”
“I don’t see why we have to go in the first place,” Max complained.
Dear. God. They could be so utterly annoying. “You do know why attending school is important. None of us should be left looking a fool, da?”
Max’s lips pressed together, drawing a grim line. He knew. It wasn’t for the sake of education anymore, though I wanted that for my family—I knew enough history to know education equated with freedom—but it was to maintain the appearance of normalcy. And it seemed odd things frequently occurred at Junction High, so being there was like placing our family’s hand on the pulse of the town.